Five!

Yesterday, C said over breakfast,
“When I was in your tummy, you were all by yourself and felt sad, right?”

What?!? How could she possibly know? I don't talk about that in front of her. I answered her as honestly as I could,

“Sweetie, I was so happy to have you in my tummy, I couldn't wait to meet you. That made me happy.”

Anyway...

Five years ago, I woke up fully pregnant.

I remember sitting outside on the porch. I took black cohosh every 15 minutes, drank big glasses of water. We read the paper together, and for the first time, we attempted sudoku. You were good at it, and I thought it was kind of stupid. But addictive. (Funny that I'm damn good at it now, some five years later, and love it.)

We went for a walk to the creek. I thought about Demeter, then, as I twisted some leafs and vines into a wreath. (Only in Florida can you do this in December!). I tossed the wreath onto the creek bank, thinking of the Latin term for river bank (ripa) and wondering how that wreath of leaves somehow became a present, a sacrifice, for Demeter to help me in labor and child birth.

We walked back. B was in good shape, overall. He really was. You wouldn't have known he had been sick, or would lapse back into it.

No, he seemed. . . healthy. Normal. Well, normal for him. I must admit, his normal was never on the same grid as most other peoples idea of normal, in part, because he didn't care what others thought. (How liberating!)

The sun set early as it does in winter. Everyone was out watching tv, and my head started to hurt. I went out onto the dark porch. It was cooler outside, a front was moving through. I just wanted to be alone. I curled up, my head hurting. In time, I became aware of my father's silhouette in the sliding glass window.

“You're in labor.” He said, kindly and gently. “I'm always right about this.”

I nodded. My head hurt. I slowly got up to go to the bathroom. I had lost my mucus plug.

I felt a surge of energy. FINALLY. This child that I had been through hell and back for, was going to make its appearance.